Wheeljack REALLY Likes Explosions
by DawnnsGrace
Summary: G1: One reason why Wheeljack may have so many explosive accidents in the lab. Requested from tfanonkink meme community on live journal.


Wheeljack Really Likes Explosions

Quick note: I didn't think I was going to write it, I was just looking through the requests and for some reason it stuck in a corner of my brain waiting till I lay down to go to sleep until it could smack me. The title pretty much explains the request but if you want to see it for yourself go here:

tfanonkink comunity on Live journal

Requests pt 2 page 7 somewhere near the bottom (don't you hate FF's hate of links)

That being said, thank you for reading and enjoy.

He couldn't believe he was doing this, again, and it hadn't even been that long since the last time.

With a furtive glance at the lab space to his right, Wheeljack bit down on a needy groan and the frustrated desire to just do it already. He needed to wait just a little longer; both for the chemical reaction to peak and so that whoever was watching the monitors wouldn't get suspicious, or in Red Alerts case more suspicious.

Earlier that shift, Wheeljack had "accidentally" spilt one of the chemicals he was working with. Instead of leaving it to corrode the surface of the lab space, he had sprayed a particular cleaning solution over the chemical and then mixed the two with a few subtle swipes of a cleaning rag. At the moment the chemicals were reacting, letting off heat and more beautifully hydrogen gas. Not that the small sample of hydrogen would be able to do anything in a lab this large, ventilated or not. No, it was just the icing on the human's proverbial cake.

Minutes later the exothermic reaction hit its plateau and Wheeljack was finally able to move onto the next step. He pulled out a beaker with a blue rim. All his beakers were similarly labeled like that after someone had tired of his oops-grabbed-the-wrong-beaker excuse for explosions. It did make it easier to tell which of the beakers he had sabotaged for his guilty pleasure. Microscopic holes had been drilled into the bottom, compromising its strength and allowing any chemicals placed in the beaker to react with the chemicals on the table.

He carefully added two chemicals in the beaker and swirled the contents casually. The by-products of the system was more hydrogen gas, a neutral chemical with a rather low combustion temperature, and of course the catalyst that would cause the explosion.

Almost timidly, Wheeljack placed the compromised beaker on the chemically active lab space. If he adjusted his audios he could hear the minute sounds of fracturing glass.

Trying hard not to let himself look anything but normal, he timed his walk to the center of the room, away from anything that could be turned into shrapnel in the forthcoming explosion. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the quiet lab and Wheeljack turned as quickly as he could so he could watch the initial explosion.

The clear liquid spilled over the table, most of it falling to the floor. Using his thermal sensors he saw the chemical reacting on the table turn instantly blue and began sucking excess heat from the surrounding area. Then for exactly three tenths of a second the system peaked, unable to take one more joule without a significant change of state.

Here it comes, was the only conscious thought as his internal sensors clicked off in every portion but his abdomen.

One more joule squeezed it's way into the system. Too fast for even Wheeljack's advanced sensors to catch, the system's temperature peaked at 540º C (1004º F.) Then came the explosion.

The first part was the heated air pushed before the flames. IT washed over his frame like an aphrodisiac, warming every surface sensor he had and pushing gently at his armor. It was gone in a hundredth of a second.

Next came the white hot flames warping his armor and burning out the surface sensors so quickly they didn't have time to switch from pleasure to pain, transmitting only an intense feeling of pleasure. Beneath his warped armor the flames slipped, licking away at the insulation of his wires so that each tug sent them into one another until he couldn't tell the difference between the fire dancing across his circuits and the loose electrical charge building between the uninsulated wires.

Then the fire was out, there was no more oxygen to consume. For exactly seven thousandths of a second Wheeljack stood in a complete vacuum.

Air rushed to fill the void, pressing against his warped armor and exposed circuits. Finally, in an instance to quick to calculate came the sonic boom. The sound and vibrations assaulted any sensors not damaged by the flames. Even – especially - within his spark chamber. The boom caused waves to form on the surface of his spark, spreading outward like an oceanic tsunami until the waves met at the polar end of their origin. The overload was intense, beyond description, a thousand times more pleasurable then any mech or femme stimulated overload.

Though his optics had been the first casualty of his guilty pleasure, it seemed as if his world whited out from the intense onslaught of pleasure.

A klick later Wheeljack rebooted with such an intense feeling of euphoria that the sensors that were functioning enough to send pain signals couldn't get through. To make sure his processor was still functioning properly, he calculated the time of the explosion and his own recovery. With that confirmed he allowed himself to bask in the afterglow that threatened to send him into another overload.

::Wheeljack, you still functioning?:: Came Ratchet's signal over his comm. link.

::Everything's fine,:: Wheeljack responded, thankful not for the first time that tone and inflection weren't transmitted over the comm. links.

::If you were fine then you'd see me scowling at you and hear every kind of idiot you are.::

::I meant my processor is working.:: If he still had the function for it, Wheeljack was certain he would be blushing.

::I have my doubts.:: Ratchet responded before closing off the link leaving Wheeljack to bask in the sensation until the local CMO got him back into working order.

End.


End file.
